


A Quaint Cottage in the South Downs

by farmgirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Attempt at accuracy, Complete, Crowley is jealous of the plant with a crush, Domestic Fluff, Dust Bunnies, Established Relationship, Everything is a live in this cottage, FallTCHEvent, For The Moment, I'm not from the UK I do my best, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Light hearted fluff, Look they're an angel and a demon, M/M, Moving In Together, Slice of Life, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), can be read as asexual, for now, spider - Freeform, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26545348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farmgirl/pseuds/farmgirl
Summary: Post-Apocolypse That Wasn't, Crowley and Aziraphale have managed to finally get on the same page about their relationship. Unfortunatley, living arrangements are still in flux. Until Aziraphale buys a "quaint cottage" just for them. But can any home belonging to an Angel and a Demon (even retired) ever be 'quaint'? Or even normal?Written for the Top Crowley Hell Fall Event
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	A Quaint Cottage in the South Downs

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, this was written for the Top Crowley Hell Discord Server's Fall event! The theme was South Downs, so have some lighthearted domestic fluff! This is basically canon, so no connection to anything else I've written. I do tend to think that TV Canon Aziraphale has anxiety issues, so you may see a little of that here. But mostly this is a happy story.
> 
> I was partnered with the amazing Mom, who did the lovely art in this story! Find them @mom.omens on Instagram!

Technically “cottage” was supposed to mean a quaint house in the country.

But no house owned by an angel and a demon is destined to be usual. And nothing Crowley would tolerate living in would be entirely ‘quaint’. It appeared as a mere two-storied house with four rooms and a bathroom. But looks can be deceiving.

It was actually a lie. The inside boasted an extra two rooms, including a large library upstairs and a sun porch hanging off the back. The sun porch could be seen, to the horror of the neighbours and the delight of a certain demon. Crowley loved it, not that he would ever admit it, and spent hours terrorizing the plants.

The house also boasted an oversized bathroom(complete with massive tub) and a small kitchen. The entire house would have put any interior decorator into cardiac arrest. Modern art mixed with fussy knick-knacks and traditional furniture from a hundred or more years ago were sitting next to sleek modern descendants. It was the sort of thing any that would have any decent interior decorator bewailing, “It just isn’t DONE!”

But it suited Crowley and Aziraphale fine. Well, of course, it suited Aziraphale. He’d found it.

Apparently discovering your ‘side’ wants to off you without a trial is a bit of a shakeup. It had taken Aziraphale a while to come to terms with the whole thing. It had taken both of them longer to admit they could be public about their relationship.

But once it started there was no stopping them. The only problem was the living spaces. Being separated after waiting 6000 years wasn’t going to work for either of them. Crowley stayed over at the bookshop, and Aziraphale showed up the flat. But the two separate spaces aren't working out for either one. And combining them was leading to arguing over pointless details.

Though Crowley might change living spaces as fast as hair and clothes, he had still chosen his flat and its decor. But Aziraphale had lived in the bookshop for centuries now! Neither one wanted to be apart. But neither one wanted to change their respective living areas either.

It finally became too much for Aziraphale. He was lying in bed one night, well Crowley was lying in bed. Technically Aziraphale was lying on top of Crowley, who was deeply asleep. Cuddling was a delightful pastime for both, but the angel had to confess his bed left a lot to be desired. Crowley’s was far better being a massive piece of furniture that the angel was sure was miracled. Crowley said otherwise but Aziraphale was sure it was at least moved in by miracle. Still, the angel didn’t always sleep and getting up after a bit disturbed his demonic partner’s sleep. Which meant the angel either lay in bed vastly bored or brought a book. In the bookshop that was easy, but not so the flat. It was all rather frustrating.

And thus why he was currently not reading, even though the book was right there. He was thinking. What to do? What could he do to fix their living situation, which was honestly growing untenable!

Aziraphale felt it might be time to get a place of their own. He adored the bookshop, but after the incidents during the Apocalypse...not to mention Crowley’s reaction to the place since. It was one thing if Azriaphale was present, but if not the demon was never content to stay here any longer. He had only spoken of the day it burned briefly, but the angel could read between the lines. Crowley had been horribly shaken, and the event left marks.

Aziraphale himself wasn’t very comfortable with being yanked back to Heaven suddenly and being cornered by Gabriel and Sandelphon in it. The place just didn’t have the warm feelings it once did. Maybe it was time for a change? A new place entirely their own for a while. Somewhere quiet where they could relearn how to live with each other. And they could even set it up as they both liked!

But where? Aziraphale considered as he listened to Crowley’s breathing. The sound was always grounding, a reminder they were both here still. London was lovely, but after living in the city for a few centuries, the angel felt he was sick of large cities for the time being. Still, the obscure hermitage might be picturesque, but it would get boring for both of them quickly. They both prefered to at least be capable of going among humans when they felt like it! So, perhaps a small village? The memory of Tadfield flickered through the angel’s mind, causing a shiver. No, definitely not!

What if they lived in a small town? Or a small city? Somewhere small enough the outskirts might contain a small domicile for both of them, but large enough for a few good restaurants, bakery, and a shop or two!

Right then, small town or city resolved, Aziraphale considered what kind of house. Nothing large, not now when they wanted a smaller profile. Heaven and Hell might have given up on them, but no need to encourage attention! Well then, something small? But then how would they house his books…?

Aziraphale shifted unhappily, which unfortunately woke his bed partner.

“Oy, Angel, you OK?”

The angel smiled softly, hearing the sleep still filling the demon’s voice. “I’m fine darling.” He hesitated then, hoping sleep would keep Crowley from thinking too much about the question,

“If you lived anywhere other than London my dearest, where would you go?”

“Dunno, somewhere with decent soil.” The demon shifted and buried his face in the angel’s curls. “Not good, mind, good soil’s dull…” He drifted off again.

Aziraphale sighed. Well, that was helpful.

“Devil’s dyke might be nice,” breathed Crowley.

He froze. Neither of them had been near the South Downs in ages, but if the angel recalled correctly, it was rather remote and only partially developed. Still, it was a start. He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s jaw and shifted happily closer.

_I’ll find something, I’m sure._

* * *

Finding an estate agency in the right area had been easy. Getting a set of listings on properties for sale in the area he wanted was also fairly do-able. Aziraphale settled on a place called New Haven, just 20 minutes from Brighton. There were a few cottages available. One of them boasted about having “a host of original period features!”, something Azriaphel thought sounded lovely.

The cottage turned out to be small, but Aziraphale could see turning the second bedroom into a library(with a bit of miracle work). It boasted quite a good-sized garden gone to seed and a lovely white brick column in front with a bit of greenery.

 _Is that an ivy vine? Oh dear, I hope it’s not Virginia creeper!_ The angel pondered to himself.

“It’s a nice place, but a bit run down. It will take some renovation work to bring it back to its proper glory!” The older woman who was the estate agent was clearly aware of her client’s weaknesses.

“The drains have gone?” Aziraphale asked cheerfully. There was a confused moment of silence, then the woman smiled again and went along with it. She was eager to show off some of the “period features” to the angel.

Aziraphale meanwhile was thinking how the size was perfect, and the outside was a dream. The fact the inside might be a bit of a rubbish heap just made it better. They could do whatever they wanted with it! Well, Crowley could, he was sure. The demon had a way of encouraging things to do as he wished. Err, ‘terrorizing’ things if you will.

“I’ll take it!” The angel declared. The estate agent was delighted. She pulled out the paperwork and they signed everything that day(with a little angelic intervention). Aziraphale took care of payment via miracle and eagerly set out to tell his demon he’d bought a space for both of them.

* * *

“I’m sorry, you wot?” Crowley was gaping at him. Aziraphale beamed from across the table. The angel had asked his darling demon to fetch take away while he set up a table for two in his own flat. It included candles and flowers (of course) as well as a lovely wine selected to go with the meal. The food tonight was Thai, which was hot enough even Crowley would eat a little of it.

“I bought a cottage in the South Downs. It’s a little small, but it should be quite cosy once we get it sorted!” Exclaimed a delighted angel.

Crowley rubbed his temples for a moment. “You bought a cottage, in the middle of the bloody South Downs. Did you check the price? And did you really want to live cut off from civilization Angel? No small cafes, no bakeries, no restaurants from across the world?”

Aziraphale waved the demons concerns away. “It’s near Brighton, we can drive over anytime we want. And the price is fine, it needs a few renovations according to the agent but the history in it-”

“Oh great, wonderful, did you even look INSIDE?” snapped Crowley, “What if it’s falling down?”

Aziraphale sniffed, “Then I’m sure you’ll fix it my dearest.”

The demon fought not to blush at the endearment and focused on the problems. “You expect ME to fix it all?”

“You fixed the M25 didn’t you?”

“Aziraphale, Angel, that was more of messing about.” He sighed heavily. “Look, what’s wrong with London?”

The angel bit his lip. “We, we can’t agree where to stay my dear. We both built our spaces apart from each other. And this one we could build together.” He bravely reached across the table, entwining his fingers with Crowley’s.

Touching each other like this, without fear, was still a new experience for both of them.

“I wanted to build a new life, a new side if you will, with you. And I wanted to get out of cities for a bit…” The angel’s nerves began to make themselves known and he back petaled suddenly. “If you don’t like it, we could move back after a bit, think of it as a vacation of sorts!”

Crowley sighed. “Stop that Angel, don’t second guess yourself like that alright? ‘S not a bad idea Ok. I just want to see what kind of ‘bargin’ you got yourself into.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh good, we can visit this weekend then?”

His demon snorted, amused by the angel’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

* * *

Aziraphale eagerly pointed out their new home from the road. Crowley parked the Bentley as inconveniently as possible to other drivers and got out.

“Well, it LOOKS nice, I’ll give you that.” The demon drily remarked.

Aziraphale beamed and opened the front door. “What do you say we look at the inside?”

They stepped inside to be greeted by what might kindly be dubbed a bit of a mess. The staircase had fallen down. There was a fireplace threatening to spill bricks all over the floor. And the dust bunnies were, well. If they’d been exposed to as much energy as the ones in Aziraphale’s bookshop had, they’d be galloping about the room right now. They were close enough without any infernal or celestial interference.

Aziraphale paled a bit. Crowley looked around in smug satisfaction. “Told you it would be bad. Going to be a thing to get it into shape.

“Oh.”

The demon finally looked at the angel and recognized the telltale signs of an oncoming anxiety spiral in the twisting and wringing of the hands. “Breath Angel, it can all be fixed. But it will take me a couple of days before I start trying to put it in its place. As it is…” Crowley narrowed his eyes at the dust bunnies. “Some of this stuff may linger. Wonder if the dust bunnies from the book shop could move with us and teach this lot to behave.”

Aziraphale swallowed and took a shaky breath, trying to reign his nerves back in. “I-I think I could persuade a few to move. At least they might teach these not to get on the books.”

“Mm.” Crowley sighed. “Look, it’s not all bad, but I hope you can wait a few weeks at least. This will be a bit tricky at first.”

Aziraphale began to feel more hopeful again. “Oh, that’s fine, Crowley! I can spend that time figuring out how to pack to the bookshop.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” muttered the demon.

* * *

Packing was one thing. Moving turned out to be a different issue entirely.

“Angel, you’re going to have to use a moving company at some point.”

“But some of my books are quite fragile! Can’t I just miracle them over? It’ not like anyone will complain now.”

Crowley was lounging against a pillar, watching Aziraphale pack/fuss over his book collection.

“You realize miracling the whole area to forget they didn’t see a lorry is going to be a bloody nightmare right?” He drily pointed out.

The angel sent him a dirty look. Tried anyway, it may have been more of a pout. “Don’t you worry about someone damaging your plants when moving them? How do you plan to get them to our cottage dearest?”

The demon fought not to blush. Post-Apocolypse had caused the dam to burst and Aziraphale had started not only throwing out endearments right and left but also had decided to indulge himself in calling things “ours” now. While it was nice to see the fear gone from Aziraphale’s eyes, it was still taking a little getting used to. Somehow when Crowley imagined the angel finally being on the same page with him, he’d never dreamed what it felt like to be the full focus of his affection. It was lovely after waiting for 6000 bloody years, but sometimes it was a little much.

“My plants can travel in the Bentley. If a little bumping bothers them, they need to be culled anyway. And none of them is dropping soil, water, or LEAVES on the upholstery, I promise.”

The angel sniffed with what could only be described as a snooty air and went back to wrapping books. Crowley made himself scare before Aziraphale got it into his head to make the demon move the heavy crates for him.

* * *

Aziraphale entered the tiny cottage, a tightly wound bundle of nerves after the moving ordeal. Packing was one thing, moving was another thing entirely. He'd spent a startling amount of time finding a company he could trust, and even longer arguing over the value of a climate-controlled lorry. Honestly, why couldn't they understand the value of books that had never seen the outside of the bookshop in CENTURIES...

The angel blinked, surprised to find the inside had lost any resemblance to the previous disaster zone. The fireplace had put itself back together, there was a small but very useable kitchen area, and the staircase no longer hung haphazardly, daring anyone to brave it. The whole place also felt a bit off, as if it were trying too hard. Or was too terrified of failure.

"Crowley?" Surely the demon was still lingering about somewhere?

Crowley emerged from a door in the back. "Oh good, made it did you?"

"Somehow, though I don't guarantee my books will all make it unharmed. This looks lovely though my dear, however, did you manage?"

"Way more time on youtube watching other poor sods who didn't hire an inspector, haven't slept in a week you know."

Aziraphale crossed and kissed the demon on the cheek. "Thank you, my dear, I appreciate your sacrifice and the place looks lovely!"

Crowley snorted. And bent down to kiss the angel properly, which thoroughly sidetracked any other compliments Aziraphale could make. By the time they were done most of the tension had left him entirely.

The angel sighed wistfully as they broke apart. "Very lovely darling, but where are we putting my books? And what were you doing in the back?"

Crowley immediately led the angel away, suggesting a late meal.

They found a small seafood restaurant and indulged in a very long dinner.

Afterwards, Crowley helped the angel miracle his bookshelves upstairs. The crates of books would be moved the next day by a local moving company. Aziraphale was still nervous about them, but at least with the lorry climate controlled they should be fine.

Meanwhile, the demon kindly helped his angel get into a rather large tub complete with bath bubbles. Crowley knew that with a cuppa, a book miracled NOT to get wet, and a few biscuits, nothing would get the angel to move for at least an hour or two. He swiftly made his way back to the sun porch.

“Bloody hell what a mess.” The sun porch was still an eyesore from the outside, but the inside was worse. Peeling paint was one thing, the spider webs and weeds were another. Swearing under his breath, and cursing anything that he didn’t want to remain, he got to work.

Over the next few days, Crowley kept Aziraphale away from the sun porch. It was easily done since the angel was far more interested in worrying about his books. And then putting them away properly, which required deciding on a new cataloguing system. All in all, Aziraphale had more than enough to worry about without bothering with Crowley and the back door that seemed to be forgotten when not looked at directly.

However, one morning Aziraphale suddenly realized he was ravenous, and came down to inspect the kitchen. It was small but workable and the angel got down to business making scones. As he was setting them in the oven, the backdoor creaked open and the sounds of a demon thoroughly cursing someone crept out.

The angel frowned. He tried to stay out of Crowley’s way when he was dealing with his plants, he was not one to cast stones. (It might be said here that while Crowley’s methods of dealing with plant life left something to be desired, they were nothing compared to the lengths Aziraphale went to not to sell books. especially if he knew the person buying was only going to store them somewhere for show, or worse, dog-ear the pages!)

However, in this case, Crowley was cursing and not merely swearing. Cursing from humans had fallen out of practice, but even when it HAD been a thing to wish illness and disaster on your neighbours, neither of them had been keen on it. Partially because when you possess the power to accidentally make something come true, such things are dangerous habits.

As such, Aziraphale sighed to himself and moved to stop Crowley before he brought the cottage down on them. He stepped through the door and froze.

What he thought was a mere patio was instead a sun porch.

It seemed far larger than it had any business being. It was also completely taken up by greenery. Most of it jungle dwellers and other tropical plants maddeningly hard to raise in the cold British isles. The rest of the space was devoted to a lovely fountain in the middle, and what Aziraphale could just make out was a love seat in the back with a coffee table. Actually, that loveseat looked remarkably like the one in the backroom from his shop, hadn’t he put that upstairs? No, it’d gone into the living room, Crowley complained they had one and he couldn’t hide upstairs in his library all day when there was a perfectly good fireplace downstairs.

Putting that thought aside, Aziraphale turned to find Crowley in a corner, a small iron table and chairs, such as is found at outdoor cafes, sitting next behind him in disarray. He was still cursing at something in the corner.

The angel moved towards him as the demon continued, “I swear you’ll find nothing but gnats for the next 50 bloody years, I hope you get EATEN trying to mate you-”

“Really my dear!”Aziraphale scolded as he finally got a look in the corner.

A fat spider from...somewhere. Certainly nothing native to this area. Or the country was sitting calmly in the middle of a large web. It had apparently taken over the whole corner.

“OY! Who invited you?” Snapped Crowley on seeing the angel.

“I invited myself to stop you from doing some foolish. Clearly needed since you’re reigning terror on this fine fellow.”

The demon hissed. “He’sssss been sent packing three times! He can’t take a hint and he keeps taking over this corner. You’d think he owned it. FIlthy sssquatter.” The last at the spider again, who was markedly unimpressed by the tirade.

Aziraphale sighed. “You know my dear, I do believe we’re going to have more than our share of lively things. At least this one is far more beneficial than those dust bunnies you suggested might linger.

Crowley hissed at the spider again and ran his fingers through his hair. “Going to have to move everything you know. I wanted them here,” he stabbed a finger at the table and chairs next to them, “and now I get to figure out where they bloody well go!”

The angel glanced around and took notice of the plants shivering around them. “I’m sure we’ll find someplace for them.” He glanced curiously at Crowley. “Why are you letting me in your plant room anyway? You realize I will coddle them, I truly can’t help it.”

“Just don’t do it where I can hear Angel. It’s ‘our’ house, so can’t expect you to stay out all the time.”

Aziraphale blushed and beamed at the demon. Which required Crowley to distract him from saying anything ridiculous. By the time they were done, neither remembered the spider at all.

* * *

The vine outside the front door was small, but it produced lovely white blossoms. Aziraphale was torn between admiring the flowers and wanting it off the front of the house.

“Could train it,” Crowley pointed out.

“To do what,” asked the suspicious angel, “harass the neighbours and torment any unfortunate person who wants to do so much as make a delivery? If we leave it there it could harm the structural integrity!” Aziraphale had done a lot of reading up on structural integrity and other important details of owning property.

Crowley studied the front of their cottage. “What if I make it stay on a trellis? Give a nice appearance, inspire a little envy.”

Aziraphale sighed. “You’ll inspire enough envy at the local garden club Darling.” He pretended not to notice the vibrant blush on Crowley’s face at his endearment. “Very well you may keep it if you will ensure it stays OFF the stonework.”

“Not a problem Angel, it’ll stay on the trellis if it knows what’s good for it.” The demon paired this remark with a glare at the vine. “Meanwhile, lunch?”

“I don’t know, shouldn’t we wait until I get more of my books unpacked?”

Crowley smirked and dipped down to kiss Aziraphale until the angel was left dazed enough to forget why he’d protested in the first place.

“Come on Ssssweetheart, ya know you’d rather eat now than later.”

Aziraphale pouted but didn’t bother protesting again.

The vine became a project over the next several weeks. At first, it resisted, but like all plants that met Crowley, he eventually terrorized it into submission.

Possibly a little too well.

The vine meekly stayed on the trellis as told, and began slowly growing up. It didn’t go fast enough for Crowley, who expressed his disgust with it frequently, but it DID grow.

Aziraphale noticed, and in spite of his doubts, he had to praise it for staying on the trellis so well. The vine responded to this by producing more flowers. It even seemed to be adding more colours. The angel was delighted and assured the vine he was properly impressed.

Unfortunately, like a certain demon in a very different garden had once discovered, resisting Aziraphale was a vain attempt. The vine began to develop a very specific attachment of its own, that had nothing to do with the stonework.

It so happened, that one morning Aziraphale stepped out to give Crowley his morning cup of coffee when the demon was in the middle of ‘lecturing’ the vine. Aziraphale frowned at all the shouting but did his best to keep it to himself. He waved at Crowley and verbally offered the mug.

Several things happened at once.

As Crowley reached for the mug, the vine suddenly completely detached itself from the trellis and hid behind Aziraphale. Once there, it curled its trendles around the startled angel’s limbs and neck. The vine shook.

Crowley immediately snarled at it, but it simply attempted to hide more of itself behind its chosen defender. Aziraphale sighed.

“You might as well stop shouting Crowley, I don’t believe the poor thing appreciates that.”

“I don’t care what it appreciates,” snarled the demon, “OY! Let go of him, he’s not your’s, you bloody weed!”

The angel blushed. “I don’t think it’s trying to steal me, my dear, I think it just wants you to stop shouting at it and hopes I will help it. There now,” this last was addressed at the vine, “there’s no need to panic. I know you’re trying very hard lately.” The vine shivered, this time in a very different manner.

It also stroked Aziraphale’s check with a leafy stem.

“Oh my, that’s sweet but I’m afraid I really am taken,” the angel said kindly but firmly. “However, I do admire how well you’ve been growing, and I do appreciate you staying on the trellis so nicely.”

Crowley was hissing softly, but his expression was rather blatantly sulky. Aziraphale fought the urge to roll his eyes. He’d dealt with Crowley’s jealousy for 6000 years and was no longer annoyed by it. Most of the time the demon only became like this if he actually thought someone had a chance with the angel. Why a vine was currently a threat was a discussion for later. Right now Aziraphale needed to figure out how to get out of this mess without harming his leafy new admirer.

“If you go back on the trellis, I promise to the shouting gets toned down a bit.”

The vine was still for a moment as if thinking it over. It then scuddled back up the trellis. Aziraphale sighed in relief and turned to his other problem.

“Come now, you silly serpent, I’m very fond of the lovely thing, but I don’t think it’s going to replace you as a drinking companion anytime soon.”

Crowley’s response was to drag Aziraphale inside and establish them both on the loveseat for several hours of rather intensive cuddling.

* * *

The demon smiled as he accepted the glass of wine and the snuggly angel that settled next to him.

“Gotta admit angel, this is pretty nice.”

“Mmm, that merlot is a lovely one.”

“Not the wine Angel. I’m saying, despite the obstacles, you were right about a place of our own.”

Aziraphale beamed at him happily.

“Thank you, my dear.”

In a corner of the sun porch, a large spider settled down to waiting for foolish dust bunnies. The dust bunnies from the cottage were still shy of the dust bunnies from the bookshop, but they were making headway. A vine eyed the two on the porch swing longingly. Or at least eyed one of them. Farther from the cottage, a certain ancient Bentley wondered how long it would be before the cottage became sentient as well. It would be nice to have someone to talk to besides lovesick vines. It would probably only be another month or two. And so the sun shone, the birds sang, and an angel and a demon kissed in a garden in a home of their own in the South Downs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments make me happy, even just emojis. Kudos are equally my friends!
> 
> If you liked this story, and want more asexual friendly pieces, try my Bonds series. I also have a few other GO stories floating around, just mind the tags ;)
> 
> I may come back to this someday and add some more to it, but for now, it's complete as is.


End file.
